Page 65 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

If we hadn’t been interrupted.

But we had.

What’s more, it was for the best. The absolute last thing I needed to happen when I was on a road trip, trapped in a small tractor day and night, was to get involved with my copilot.

First, because of the bone-shaking awkwardness that could happen after something physical happened and one (or both) parties decided that once was enough.

Second, because I wasn’t sure I could search for my father all by myself.

Third…

I was trying really hard to come up with a third reason. Because he felt so good, and I needed to find a compelling excuse to get off of him.

I took a deep breath, but the movement only pressed my breasts more firmly against him, the sensation making my legs shift.

And that was when I realized that the ache inside me wasn’t a one-sided desire. His hard length pressed against me, making my belly twist and my heart flip-flop.

Gav’s hand shifted from my hip, sliding down over my ass, then thigh, making a shiver rack my system. Then he was grabbing me behind the knee, yanking my leg up, spreading it outward so that when I shifted ever so slightly, he was pressed against the core of me.

A sharp moan escaped me as tension wound tightly in my stomach, as my pulse went hard and thick.

Gav’s hand trailed back up, sinking into my ass, pressing down, grinding me against him.

My moan was muffled by his shoulder as sensation raced across my nerve endings, as desire pooled.

His other hand rose, pressing to the back of my neck, the pressure possessive and also somehow reassuring as his hips rocked up against me.

Desire sparked, caught, burned through me, making my hips rock instinctually as his kept rocking slowly up against me.

For once, I didn’t think, didn’t try to talk myself out of what I was feeling, what I wanted.

I just sank into it all.

The intoxicating weight of him beneath me.

The rise and fall of his breathing.

The involuntary tightening of his grip.

The heat and friction between us.

The tractor filled with my whimpers and moans as our bodies rushed closer and closer toward fulfillment.

Low groans escaped Gav as he rocked harder and harder against me.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and thick, his breath tickling my ear. “You can let go.”

As if my body had been seeking his permission, the orgasm shot through me, making me cry out against his neck.

A rumbling sound moved through Gav as his arms tightened around me. But when I could suck in a breath and think clearly again, I could still feel him hard against me.

I don’t know if I stiffened or what, but Gav’s shoulder shrugged. “Don’t worry about it,” he murmured as his hand shifted to start sifting through my hair.

I don’t know where the boldness came from, but I shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to his neck, feeling the flutter of his heartbeat below my lips.

His fingers flexed on my hip, and that tiny reaction gave me all the encouragement I needed.

I kissed down his neck, over his collarbone, then down the center of his chest.